


The Perils of Drowning

by orphan_account



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A girl from our world ends up in the Tudors. The elder sister of Jane Seymour by one year, Arabella, catches the eye of Charles Brandon when the King shows up after a hunt and sets his sights on Jane. They are told to come to court as ladies-in-waiting for Anne Boleyn. Ara, who was very much trying to avoid going to the court of the infamous Henry VIII is not pleased with the development at all, even if she saw it coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to RAH07890 for agreeing to beta the story for me.

1\. Prologue.

It was a beautiful day towards the end of May; after a long and unusually cold winter, it finally felt like spring. Ara Mallory was enjoying the warm weather and clear blue skies by walking along the harbor-side storefronts not far from her childhood home. It was still her home, but since she turned eighteen just a few weeks earlier, she supposed she was, _technically_ , no longer a child.

Ara grew up in Mystic, Connecticut; while her family wasn't filthy rich, they were more than well off. Her great-grandfather on her father's side, had been an old time movie producer in the Golden Era of Hollywood, and left all his children with a healthy inheritance when he died. This continued until Ara's father inherited his wealth.

Ara knew, and fully admitted, that she was a bit spoiled, since she was an only child.

Her parents were very busy people. Her father was a rather popular defense attorney while her mother worked in advertisement. They tended to make up for their absences by giving her almost anything she desired. It was a poor substitute, but she didn't hold it against them... not anymore anyway.

She had lived a privileged life up until that point, sheltered even. But, at that moment she felt like she imagined any other high schooler only weeks before graduation would feel, somewhat adrift. At the end of the school year, she would have to say goodbye to many of her friends she had known since elementary school, and, at the end of the upcoming summer, she'd have to say goodbye to everyone else.

Even her best friends, Tory and Mika, were both going to different colleges than she was. Promises were made, such as to never lose touch, but Ara was too realistic to believe their friendships wouldn't suffer from the distance. She sighed, the future seemed to be rushing at her full speed, and, yet, still remained elusive.

The now eighteen year old still had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. There were many things that interested her, art, history, music, and religion to name a few, but she was unsure what career would suit her best. Her parents wanted her to go into medicine or law, but Ara knew she had no interest in either; it just wasn't her. It started more than one argument in her house.

But she brushed off those unpleasant thoughts for the time being. She had taken this little stroll for the sole purpose of clearing her head, not stressing herself further.

Mystic was right on the coastline. Much of the town's livelihood came from the ocean, and half the people who live there (her family included) were fans of sailing, which meant boats. So, there were lots of harbors like the one she found herself wondering down that particular afternoon. Ara loved the ocean. The smell of salt water, the crash of the waves, and even the annoying cawing of seagulls. There was just something therapeutic about it all.

Making her way off the noisy docks, Ara walked down to the rocky shore. It wasn't a swimming spot, and, even if it were, the water was still _far_ too cold to swim just yet. But, more importantly, there were danger signs posted every ten feet or so, warning of riptides. So, imagine her surprise when she spotted three preteens: a boy and two girls, splashing their way through the waves into deeper water.

Indecision halted her steps; it was really none of her business. She knew she had no right to yell at the stupid brats, but, still... Riptides were dangerous, _very dangerous_. She couldn't help but wonder, what would happen if she said nothing and one of them drowned? She'd feel guilty forever. Ara sighed again.

"Hey?! You can't swim here! Can't you read?!" She screamed above the sound of the waves and the kids' yells and squeals; her arms waving erratically towards the signs.

They ignored her.

Of course they could have just not heard her, but Ara doubted it. The two girls looked in her direction for a split second before the boy tackled them both into the water and they went down with high-pitched giggles. _Well_ , she thought, _at least she tried_. Turning to walk away with her conscious clean, her heart dropped in horror when she heard a scream. It wasn't the happy screams the preteens were letting out just a second before, either, but a loud, blood-curdling scream that sent her stomach plummeting to her feet.

Whipping around, her long pale blonde hair flew into her face, and she saw one of the girls being pulled out to sea in a strong current. With a muttered curse, she took off without much thought, splashing into the surf with large steps before diving forward and swimming after the girl, who couldn't be any older than twelve.

Ara was pretty much born and raised on the beach, so she could swim. She was a damn good swimmer, if she did say so herself. But, as she swam after the girl, parallel to the current, her jeans and sneakers began weighing her down, and slowed her movements drastically. It took a long time, far too long -it felt like hours- but, eventually, she was close to the girl.

The freezing water was coming up and splashing in her face, the girl's screams rang in her ears. It was all so disorienting. But, she knew that in order to get the girl, whose panicked face was clearer now that Ara was closer, she'd have to put herself into the riptide. So, without a second thought, she did. The water unforgivably pulled at her; her head kept going under, the salty water filled her mouth and burned her eyes.

Ara slammed into the struggling younger girl harshly, the other pulled them both under momentarily with her frantic movements. She tried to tell the girl to stop, to swim _with_ the current, not _against_ it, but it was no good. Every time she opened her mouth, it was flooded with water. The blonde did her best to keep them both above water and pulled the smaller teen along with her.

There was a rock formation jutting out about forty feet into the water not far from them. But Ara's arms and legs were already burning with the strain of supporting them both, along with her heavy clothes and sopping wet shoes. Somehow, she didn't quite know how, but, _somehow_ , she managed to get them both to the large boulder at the end of the line of rocks, and pushed the girl towards it with all her might.

She saw the younger girl clinging to the rock before she was pulled under.

Water was rushing her from all sides; she couldn't tell which way was up. She kicked her feet anyway, but her legs were so _tired_ that it felt like she was moving through syrup instead of water. Her nose, throat, and chest burned. Her eyes were open, trying desperately to see something to grab onto, or even just see which way led to the surface, but all she saw was rushing white water.

The air she was holding in escaped her in bubbles, large ones at first, and then smaller and smaller as her breath ran out. She instinctively tried to breathe, but that just filled her lungs with water. Her panicked mind went into a frenzy. _She was going to drown! Oh God, she was drowning!_ Blackness was encroaching on her blurred vision and her head was pounding. Ara's movements increased before slowing to nothing more than twitches as her strength abandoned her and her body was tossed around in the current.

Just before she lost consciousness altogether, she heard a voice, a beautiful musical voice, or maybe it was just her imagination.

_"Well done, young hero. The one you saved will go on to do great things in the future. She will achieve them in your name. For your act of valor, we have decided to reward you. But, keep in mind, little savior, every gift is also a curse. The planes of existence are far more complex than you can comprehend; where we send you now, you will need your wits. Fare thee well, Ara Mallory; when next we meet you will go by a different name."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a ten year time skip in the next chapter.
> 
> This story is NOT historically accurate. 
> 
> Thank you to RAH07890 for beta-ing for me!

2.

Ara bolted upright with a choked gasp.

Her hand unconsciously went to her heaving chest as her breath came out more raggedly than she thought it would. Her eyes were wide, but she couldn't see anything; the last thing she remembered was freezing cold water, so much water. It pulled her down... Now, she was breathing even more erratically.

Drowning… she remembered drowning, and that voice...

Someone must've pulled her from the water when she lost consciousness. Ara made a mental note to find out who had saved her so she could thank them profusely. God, she had never been more terrified in her life. It took a moment, but, eventually, her breathing calmed, though, her body continued to tremble in shock. When her mind was no longer in the throes of panic, she was able to see again, so Ara looked around the room she found herself in. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

The room was... odd... and she had definitely never been there before.

What stood out the most was the stone masonry. The walls, ceiling, and the floor were all made of large grey stones mortared together. A frown tugged at the edge of her lips. The furniture was also strange; the bed she sat upon was thick and lumpy. Everything else in the moderately sized room was made of heavy, dark wood, and looked very antiquated.

It reminded her firmly of the field trip her class took to Salem, Massachusetts when she was in the ninth grade and stayed in the old timey inn.

Where the hell was she? Why wasn't she in the hospital, or, barring that, in her bedroom back home? Where were her parents? As absentee as the tended to be, Ara was _sure_ they would rush to her bedside after her near drowning, no matter how busy they were that day. Yet the room was empty, save for herself.

Pushing the heavy fabric of the quilt covering her lower body down, the blonde was about to get up and explore the foreign place she found herself in, when she realized something rather important. Her hands were small, tiny even, her arms were short and thin, and, looking down she saw her legs were also short and thin.

...What the actual hell?

Panic once again gripped her as her eyes roved over her body. She was dressed in an old fashioned, white, long sleeved shift, but that barely registered in her brain. She was skinnier than she was when she woke up that morning. Her hips far narrower… her chest... well, her chest was as flat as a board. Although she was eighteen, Ara couldn't remember a time when she was flat-chested. Sure, she hadn't had the biggest chest of anyone she knew… she had a nice large handful… a full C cup, thank-you-very-much! Except, now, you'd never know that; she was _flat_. She didn't know what to think.

Sliding from the four-poster bed, Ara stumbled when she found the floor was farther away than she had predicted.

Standing still for a moment to catch her bearings, Ara made her way to the window, her long shift dusting the floor. Heavy, dark blue velvet drapes hung to the floor, and, when the blonde ripped them open, she found herself looking at wooden shutters that hooked together in the center. She found that she was able to still open them, if she stood on her toes. Once she did, she saw rolling green hills in the early dawn light.

There was a courtyard below her. Standing on her toes again, Ara peered down. There were people, people dressed in the strangest of clothes, clothes that she would expect to see in a movie that was set in the past. She wasn't sure exactly when in the past, but at least a couple hundred years. There were even several men on horseback. For a second, she hysterically considered the idea that she had been kidnapped by some type of traveling Renaissance fair.

Ara pulled herself from the window, deeply unnerved, and latched the shutters once again before pulling the drapes closed.

Still, she had seen enough to know she was nowhere near her home. Mystic wasn't the largest of towns, but it was a _town_. There was nowhere within the borders that had miles and miles of open green like she was seeing. Not to mention the clothes and people she saw from the window. She was determined to think about all of that later. The question of where she was, was an afterthought because she realized that, unlike that morning, where she had been 5'5", her head now barely touched the windowsill.

Her body was too small; why was she so small?!

Tiny feet padded over cold stone.

Ara looked for some type of reflective surface to get a glimpse of herself, though she was also dreading what she would see. Searching through a bureau, she found nothing but long and heavy odd-looking dresses. The wood of the bureau itself was rough to the touch, not the smooth polished and lacquered wood she was used to, but, again, it wasn't important.

Her search became more desperate as her lack of success became more and more apparent. She riffled through a chest at the end of the bed, but still found nothing to use as a mirror, just some peculiar, handmade wooden toys. Finally, inside something that seemed to be a cross between a desk and vanity, she found what she was looking for. It wasn't an actual mirror, just a small sheet of highly polished steel that had blunted edges.

Tightening her jaw in determination, Ara looked into the reflective metal surface, and promptly dropped the small sheet of steel in shock.

As she sank to the floor with her back against the vanity, a shaking hand retrieved the mirror substitute. The reflection was slightly distorted, but not enough to disguise the fact that a child was looking back at her. Not just any child, but herself as a child. Her mother had countless photobooks filled with pictures of her childhood. Most of them taken by her numerous nannies over the years.

Ara could easily recognize her own face.

Her large, jade green eyes, the small, sloping button nose, those chubby, dimpled cheeks, and ears just a bit too large for her head. Long, pale golden hair hung low, longer than she could ever remember having her hair. Her mother always made her get a pixie cut when she was younger; even when she was older, she never grew her hair past shoulder length. Pulling at a strand, she soon realized that her hair must have almost reached her butt.

Staring at her cherub face, pale and very close to going into shock, Ara wagered the girl... _she_... was no older than five, maybe six years old.

So, naturally, she did what any other person would do if they found themselves in her situation… she screamed bloody murder.

A heavy set woman burst into the room. She wore a long, grey dress, with a matching habit on her head. Ara absently wondered if the woman was a nun. Her face was old and lined, and set in a no-nonsense expression. She looked stern, wearing a pinched frown: the very antithesis of happiness.

"Lady Arabella, whatever is the problem?" Ara's mouth dropped open, but she was rendered speechless. Arabella? Lady? Did this woman with the heavy English accent know her, and, if so, why was she using a different name and calling her Lady?

"What...?" The blonde child finally managed to sputter.

"You will speak in full sentences, my lady." The woman frowned disapprovingly, the lines around her mouth and at the corner of her eyes thickening with the unhappy expression.

"What is it, Ara? Is there a beast; do you need me to slay it?" A boy around ten years old came running into the room behind the nun.

He also spoke with an English accent and had sunny blonde hair and grey/blue eyes. He was dressed in wool breeches... honest to god breeches… and a loose white linen shirt with ties at the neckline. Ara stared at him with wide green eyes. He called her Ara and spoke as if he knew her.

What the hell was going on?!

The nun looked about to scold the boy, but, before she had the chance, another boy who looked very much like the first -if a few years older- also wandered in. The moderately sized room suddenly felt much smaller.

"What the devil is all that screaming about?" The older boy frowned.

"I was just attempting to figure that out, Lord Edward, before Lord Thomas came in yelling such folly."

"Thomas?" The older boy and the nun looked down at the younger boy who shifted under their stare.

"Ara screamed!" He blurted out. "I thought she saw a rat or something; I was going to kill it for her!" The boy… Thomas, proclaimed proudly, puffing out his skinny chest.

Then, all the attention turned back to her.

"…A rat?" The question fell incredulously from her lips, but they seemed to take it as conformation.

"A rat?!" A small girlish voice squeaked from outside the door.

"No need to worry Jane, it seems to be gone now."

"If I find it, I'll stay it!"

"That's enough of this." The nun interrupted the boys. "I will send the maids in to help you dress, Lady Arabella, you and your sister can start lessons early, since you are both awake at such an early hour."

"But..." Ara butted in, still completely confused.

"I'll not hear a word against it! Boys, return to your chambers or your father will hear of this first thing."

"Yes, Madame June." The boys spoke in unison.

Ara watched as the nun herded the two children from the room, and then, she caught a glimpse of a small blonde girl out in the hall. Ara shakily stood. This had to be a dream. It was the only explanation that came to mind. Yes, that was it, she was just dreaming she was a child in some part of English history. The reassurance felt hollow.

 _It was just a dream_. Those five words became her mantra over the next few days in this place out of time, but she never woke up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RAH07890 has beta-ed this story.

3.

Despite the reassurances she gave herself when she first arrived in this place, Ara never woke up from her "dream".

She still stubbornly held on to the idea that she _was_ dreaming for weeks, but, eventually, she had to accept the facts. Ara had always been a realist. She wasn't dreaming; she actually was in sixteenth-century England, in Henry _VIII's England_ \- no matter how unbelievable that sounded. The revelation sent the blonde spiraling into a deep depression.

Would she ever see her parents again? Her mom and dad, whom she hated as much as she loved most days. What about her friends, even her best friends? Tory and Mika, the small bubbly girls she met in third grade and stuck by her through all the petty drama of middle and high school. What about graduation? What about J _amie_ … the cute boy with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes that was her on-again and off-again boyfriend since sophomore year. She was set to go to Southern Connecticut University in the fall… What about _her life_?!

But, that's what it all came down to; she decided, after many months of pondering, that her life was no more. The life of Ara Mallory. The life that ended that fateful day on the beach. It was the only thing she could think of; she must have died that day, drowned. Yet, somehow, _someway_ , she ended up here. Where Ara Mallory _didn't_ exist, but Arabella Seymour _did_.

Thankfully, Arabella's "mother", for lack of a better word, died in childbirth the same day she appeared in the past. It was a horrible thing: to be grateful that an innocent woman who was only in her twenties died, along with her stillborn daughter, but she was grateful all the same. The death of her "mother" excused away her undoubtedly strange behavior to the people around her in the following months.

Not only was Ara depressed at the loss of her previous life, along with everyone and everything she ever knew, she was also adjusting to life in the early Renaissance age. She was a modern girl; she was used to certain luxuries, such as central air and heat and indoor plumbing. She was used to cars, buses, boats, trains, and even planes, not horses.

She was used to it not mattering one wit that she was a girl. To being treated as a person, not some pretty little doll to be molded into the perfect example of a 'Lady,' so she could be married off; all for her family's advancement, of course. It didn't help that her governess, Madame June, was the devil incarnate with her damned discipline rod.

Maybe that wasn't completely fair. Her "father", really did seem like a good man, but he was still ambitious. No matter how kind he was to her and her younger sister, Jane, Ara knew they would still be given to the man with the most prestige when they were old enough. It was her biggest stumbling block in accepting she was stuck there. She was supposed to marry for love… but love was nothing more than a fairy tale in this time.

She was in the body of a child, but she would guess she had only about ten years before she was married off to be some lord's broodmare. If she was lucky, he wouldn't be old enough to be her grandfather or cruel, but that was up to Lady Luck, she supposed. And, because she was a realist, she didn't bother with any foolish notions of running away from this unwanted fate.

The unfortunate truth was, in this time, people were ruled by their station in life and their gender. It was a rare man that could rise above the lot he was born with, and, even rarer, a woman, especially if she didn't use her body to do it. Ara was a part of a noble house, lower nobility, but, still, there were expectations. If she ran from those expectations, she wouldn't be able to find any work, not anything she'd be willing to do anyway.

She was no longer in the 'land of opportunity,' and, as a woman, she had less opportunities than any lowborn man.

The thought of her complete lack of control over her life wasn't the only thing that annoyed her. There were the small things, too. She had to learn her way around the castle. Sure, they called it an estate, but, to her, it was nothing short of a castle. It also took some time to get used to the mannerisms, clothes, and superstitions of the people around her. Then there was figuring out what was expected of her from day to day. For example, she liked to see how far she could push Madame June before her knuckles and bottom were covered in bruises from that godforsaken rod.

Most importantly, she had to accept the Seymours were her family here.

That was a daily struggle.

Her siblings were easier to bond with, especially Jane.

She'd never had siblings before, so she didn't feel like she was replacing anyone by interacting with them. However, she didn't really get along with Edward. He became very controlling as they aged, but, over time, she came to accept him to some small degree. Thomas was fun; he was loud and his head was full of future glories, but when he entered his teens, he lost all interest in his little sisters. Jane was Ara's closest friend; she spent the most time with Jane, as they were closest in age and the only girls. The difference in their mental ages was an issue when they were younger, but the gap between them closed more and more with each passing year.

Lord John Seymour was another matter entirely. She couldn't help but compare him to her own father, Patrick Mallory. She found each time that he was severely lacking. He was kind, but not as kind. Intelligent, but not as intelligent. Hard working, but not…well, she could go on and on. This wasn't to say she hated the man. She was actually quite fond of him, no matter how guilty that made her feel, but he could never replace her true father.

Still, it wasn't all bad. Considering her life was flipped on its axis, she lost everything, was somehow tossed a few hundred years in the past, and thrown into the body of a clumsy child, this was the time of Henry VIII. The history geek in her was almost whooping with joy. She was here, living in the time of England's most infamous king. Admittedly, most of the romance wore off by actually living here, but it was still unfathomably cool.

Ara had always been interested in history. Though, if she was honest, she was more intrigued by ancient cultures like the Greeks, Egyptians, Romans, Japanese, and Aztecs. The wonders they were able to achieve and the lives of the people always fascinated her. But she by no means ignored more 'recent' history, and Henry Tudor was someone that stood out like a beacon in the history of the world.

Which is why Ara spent several months berating herself after it took her _nearly seven years_ to put two and two together. Her sister was _Jane Seymour_. The same Jane Seymour that went on to become the third of Henry's queens: the one who would die young giving birth to her only child, the king's only son. But the horror that knowledge brought was promptly overshadowed when she saw the portrait of the king himself.

Ara was thirteen at the time, at least physically, and had deluded herself into thinking she was coping well with her circumstances.

She was an idiot.

Upon seeing the face of the monarch, she had a _complete_ meltdown. Looking out at her from a canvas covered in oil paint was the face of Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Although the memories of unimportant things from before arriving were somewhat blurred, like the faces of actors or popular song lyrics, Jonathan Rhys Meyers wasn't easily forgettable. It wasn't because he was especially attractive -or unattractive for that matter- but, because he had a unique face.

There was no mistaking him for anyone else, and he certainly didn't look like any of the portraits she had seen of Henry Tudor before. So, once again, Ara asked herself the same question she probably asked herself a thousand times since ending up there… _What the hell was going on?!_

There was one obvious answer, but it was too ridiculous to contemplate, even in comparison to _time travel_. She could have accepted time travel. Okay, that was a lie, but she had stopped trying to explain it away. Her mind only raced in circles when she tried to figure out how she ended up here. She was driving herself mad, so she brushed it off as some natural phenomenon and did her best not to dwell on it… as much as she could avoid doing so anyway.

She could _not_ accept the idea that she somehow ended up in a television show; there was no way she was living in _The Tudors..._ it simply wasn't possible... right? But, as the days went by, she found herself studying Jane's face. Was she a younger version of the actress who played Jane Seymour? For the life of her, Ara couldn't remember the woman's face or name.

As much as her mind rebelled at the very idea, she couldn't think of any other explanation… Jonathan Rhys Meyers had played King Henry VIII on The Tudors, and she was in a place where King Henry VIII looked _exactly_ like Jonathan Rhys Meyers. When two and two came together and equaled four… well that was hard to argue against. She also doubted both she and the famous actor had both been sent back in time a few hundred years.

The famous quote from Sherlock Holmes seemed to sum up her situation nicely: "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how _improbable_ , must be the truth."

That was three years ago, and she still could hardly wrap her mind around the idea. But, just like before, when she had been convinced she was sent back in time, and not somehow in a real life version of a TV show, day to day life took precedence over asking herself questions she had no answers to. The time had come that she had been dreading for ten years... Her father was looking for matches for her and Jane.

Ara, or Arabella, was now sixteen years old, Jane was fifteen; they were both women by the standards of nearly everyone around them. Since they were considered women, they were of marriageable age. Their father had been meeting with several lords over the past few months, and many others had come calling for either her or Jane's hand, but, as far as she knew, nothing was set yet.

Ara was used to visitors showing up, sometimes with no warning, then she and Jane would be paraded in front of them like prized cows at auction.

One day, which seemed no more important than another, Ara was lounging on her bed reading a biography on Henry VII, the first Tudor king. She wasn't all that surprised to see Madame June burst into her chambers with a small hoard of maids following in her wake. She heard the commotion in the courtyard from her window, so she instantly knew they had visitors.

"Up! Get up!" Madame June, who Ara was convinced was some type of immortal demon, ordered sharply.

Placing a strip of ribbon to mark her page, the sixteen year old stood, not too quickly, she had her dignity after all, but fast enough to not be swatted with the rod if the beast was hiding it somewhere in her skirts.

"Visitors so late? We've already dined for the evening." Her green eyes watched as the maids swarmed her bureau.

"Yes, very important guests. You will put on your best gown and fix your face."

"What's wrong with my face?" The old woman did not seem amused at her question.

The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind. The maids stripped her down to her handmade underclothes, earning her a disapproving look from her governess. Ara refused to wear underwear that started at the ribs and ended at the knee, so she made her own bikini briefs, much to the consternation of the demon. It was a never ending argument between the two.

Once she was stripped, the maids tightened her corset to the point that she could hardly breathe, and helped her into her best dress: a pale green, off the shoulder silk gown which showed the tops of her breasts. There was floral stitching in gold and tiny crystals decorating the bodice. The combination of green and gold made her eyes and hair both shine brighter.

When she was properly clothed, her hair was pulled up into a thick, crown braid. Her cheeks were pinched ruthlessly and perfumed oil rubbed into the skin behind her ears and the back of her wrists. When she was deemed ready, the demon basically marched her from the room.

"Your Lord Father is in the hall with his guests." The unspoken order to hurry up and get there was plain to hear in Madame June's abrupt tone.

"Where is Jane?"

"Your sister was already appropriately dressed," unlike you (the words didn't have to be spoken for Ara to catch Madame June's meaning) "she is already in the dining hall, along with your brothers."

"Very well." Ara nodded before making her way to the rest of her family and whatever lord she was about to be ogled by this time.

Walking into the hall, green eyes swept the large expanse of the room. There were only two people there that weren't a part of their household, one was very tall and the other was on the shorter side. When she saw their faces, she nearly stumbled forward in surprise. She recognized them both instantly, from _The Tudors_ , Henry VIII and Charles Brandon. Or, rather, Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Henry... something; she couldn't remember his last name.

Although Charles Brandon was far more eye catching, it was Henry Tudor that kept her gaze. This wasn't an actor… which could only mean...

" _Holy shit_ , he's the King!"

"ARABELLA!"


End file.
